


Hide & Seek

by lunaseemoony



Series: Promises [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Babies, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:55:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4203540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaseemoony/pseuds/lunaseemoony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The game of hide and seek always seems to end in surprises for the Doctor. An incident while babysitting reminds him of what happened the last time he'd played the game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hide & Seek

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allegoricalrose (SilentStars)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentStars/gifts).



> This is a gift for the dear [allegoricalrose](http://allegoricalrose.tumblr.com/), who is in turn a gift to our fandom.

 

“One job, she gave me. One, simple job. 'Look after the baby, Doctor.' Simple enough, right? I've done it plenty of times before, no problem,” the Doctor flew through a TARDIS corridor, bobbing his head left and right, up and down. “Maybe if you were a _normal_ child. A normal, human 13 month old that can't even walk yet wouldn't get himself lost on the TARDIS.” He skipped in has black leather boots a couple times, hastening just a bit more after each empty corridor. “I'm not taking the blame for this, just so you know. I'm telling your mum it was your choice to wander off.”

The Doctor stopped and rocked up on his heels when he reached the galley. Oh please, dear Rassilon, let the child not be in the galley, he prayed as he veered inside. The boy's mother would filet him if anything happened to her precious baby boy due to the Doctor's own stupid negligence. He could easily patch up a cut, scrape or bruise. She still might filet him, but if the baby's skull was dented in because a pot fell on his head? He'd be dead meat, regeneration aside. There was no easy way to baby-proof the entire ship. Most days the Doctor trusted the TARDIS to help look after the little tyke, steering him away from danger. But she could only do so much. It was up to the child's parents to actually do their job.

“Once, just _once_ , I'd love for someone to actually listen to me when I say -” the Doctor jumped around a counter and gasped, expecting to find the child sitting in a pile of flour giggling. But for all his efforts wanting to surprise the boy, all he found was an open cabinet door, and an empty cabinet. “Don't wander off.”

He could live with a little bit of disappointment. It was healthy enough within the first ten minutes, at least. He continued his search down the next corridor. The baby's bright green diaper bag bounced on his hip as he paced the halls. He'd gone full domestic, having completely given up on complaining about how much the little koalas dancing around on the striped bag clashed with his leather jacket. He half hoped to find him in the library curled up with a book teaching himself English or Gallifreyan. He'd be disappointed again.

The boy and his mum had taken over his life entirely. He might not have ever called himself a bachelor until the baby came into his life, but there were moments when he missed it.. moments like this one when he'd been saddled with the baby while Jack and Rose popped out for a bit of fun. They left him to aimlessly roam the labyrinth that was the inside of his ship searching for a baby. It was a life he'd never forseen himself (or really desired, being honest) having. All of his favorite places to sneak in a quick kip had been stolen by stuffed animals, baby blankets and a sleeping baby with his mum. Incidentally the bedrooms and ensuites were empty. He couldn't fault the kid for that one. To a baby bedrooms must have been dreadfully boring.

Make no mistake. Living with Rose and her baby was no sacrifice. If anything, he would sacrifice all he had for the boy and his mummy. He never needed to say it, he made sure that they knew it. They both knew they'd wriggled their way into his hearts, that he cherished every day they melted him with their matching pair of sweet almond brown eyes. That's what he searched for, what sent his pulse racing as he crept through every nook and cranny on the TARDIS. His chest ached with each passing empty minute. Penance for his carelessness was utterly disregarding his respiratory bypass. What began as a slow burn in his chest wanted to spread like a wildfire from head to toe, every inch of skin peeling away to reveal the blazing guilt he felt for his inability to find the baby boy.

A half hour passed. By then he'd made a complete lap around the ship, and was now double checking rooms. The pool was thankfully empty. He checked the other side of the library, also empty. The supply closets contained only supplies. He swept through the studies and parlors, all empty. The Doctor might have said he himself felt just as empty, except that he felt a slurry of dread creeping up to his gullet. He'd never share the manner of thoughts and worries that were invading his mind as he began to search through the laboratories.

He craved relief, the sweet release from a little giggle, comfort from a glimpse of little toes or chocolate down. The first time Rose left him alone with the baby Jack was with him. She couldn't bear to leave him by himself, not that she didn't trust him. She'd spent the entire two hours fretting over her child, worrying about him, needing to hold him, she'd told the Doctor later. Right then, when the Doctor couldn't hear anything but his hearts drumming in his ears all he needed, all that he ached for, was to hold his son in his arms and have him safe. He understood completely as he never had before.

“Da!”

The Doctor fell back and crashed on his bum as he searched through a chemistry laboratory. He'd been so lost in his thoughts that the sudden chirp at his feet sent him flying. All he saw before everything went white for a moment was a flash of two doe eyes beaming up at him. He collapsed onto his back, crushed under the weight of relief.

“Hi,” the little creature bleated into his face a moment later.

“Oliver..” the Doctor sighed.

Two arms flew up and tucked the little boy – his little boy – beneath his wings. He buried his nose in his impossibly soft baby down and let the sweetness, the concentration of pure Ollie completely blanket his senses. He couldn't be bothered by the song of triumphant giggles muffled into his neck, nor his excited little feet kicking at his belly. He ignored a couple tears kissed onto his son's crown. His son. After so many months, the only two words that could best those two were Rose's growling “your son,” after Oliver misbehaved or kept her up at night. Or perhaps better yet, Rose's happily sighed, “our son,” when she was there to hug them both.

“You scared me half to death,” the Doctor chided as he held up his wiggling child over his head.

Oliver only grinned, that same wicked smile he shared with his mummy. “Hi.”

“Oh no you don't. Don't you 'hi daddy' me, mister.” Before the Doctor could go on, Oliver repeated the greeting, only this time in his native tongue. “And you're not sweet talking me either.” The Doctor brought him back down and hugged him tight. Safe. He was safe. Safe and unharmed. “How many times have I told you not to wander off? What have you got to say for yourself?”

Oliver poked his head up and replied with some lyrical combination of Gallifreyan-English-Baby that his mother would probably call babbling.

“Oh fine, easy for you to say. Live a little. You try living a little when your life's on the line. D'you know what your mum would do to me if anything happened to you?” This sentiment was met with a laugh.

Oliver wiggled and twisted in his arms, giggling into his neck and chest. It was in this precise moment that the Doctor noticed the child was covered from head to toe in a gooey sludge. A flash of panic riveted through his veins as the Doctor looked down to find his arms and chest covered in the mysterious brown sludge.

“What is.. what did you get yourself into?!” the Doctor shouted, lifting Oliver up again.

The child was not fazed at all by the panic coating his voice. In fact, he replied with a raspberry and a giggle.

“It can't be brownie batter. Not in my chem lab! What on.. why would you think it's..” the Doctor frowned and scanned the grainy muck all over his baby's clothes, arms, and chunky baby legs. He dared to have a taste, kissing Oliver's hand. “How did you.. _where_ did you get brownie batter?”

“Ga!” Oliver cheered, flailing in his best impression of his mum's guffaw.

“You did not. You can't even reach that high, for starters.”

“Ga!”

“Lies don't become us, Oliver Peter Tyler.”

“Ga!”

“Alright fine. Let's say you _did_ by some miracle manage to concoct this mess in the chem lab. What on Gallifrey came over you? What makes you think you can cook? Why the lab, why not ask me?”

Oliver blew him another raspberry and chuffed.

“I would _too_ have listened - ” he paused, and recalled his son's babbling banter before this whole fiasco. “ _That's_ what you meant by 'need brownies..'”

It wouldn't be too much of a stretch to conclude that little Oliver was just slightly cognizant of his mother eating brownies straight from the pan when she was pregnant with him. It was the unhealthiest thing that Rose could stomach while pregnant, he'd learned. Their little baby was too clever for his own good.

“You're right, Ollie. Daddy didn't listen,” the Doctor sighed, and dropped a kiss to his son's temple. “Come on then, let's get you cleaned up before your mum comes back and sees you covered in stuff that looks like..” he shuddered. “I think we're past a simple change with this one. Might need a bath.” He groaned as he shifted to sit up. “No more games of hide and seek, hmm? They always end in surprises for your dear old dad. It's a bit exhausting.”

 

\-------

 

“Oh come on Doctor. Live a little!” Rose giggled as she danced around the console.

“My idea of living a little is not playing a game of hide and seek on the TARDIS. You're not tired?” the Doctor snorted, but let her shove him onto the jump seat.

She threw her hands into the air and warmed the entire room with her grin. “After tonight? Not a bit!”

“Not even after all the dancing?”

“Nope!”

He could only sigh and smile. She was ever the exuberant human. With every little giggle and gasp of amazement she breathed life right into his worn hearts. “Sure you don't want to play with -”

Rose twirled on her feet and stopped when he spoke. She leaned into him and batted those smoke-hooded eyes his way, whispering her reply so close he could almost taste her strawberry lip gloss. “Just you.”

The Doctor gulped down his adam's apple and gave Rose a dumb nod. Was her ability to take just what she wanted from him a skill that she'd carefully honed over the past year, or an innate ability that she'd been born with? If experience told him anything, it was that she didn't even need to bat her eyes at him or send tremors just below his belt with her sweet little whispers. All she ever needed to do was ask. With each day she learned of yet another one of his weaknesses. He wouldn't be surprised if she already knew by then that most of them were directly related to her. And with their new companion on board, he made it oh so easy for her.

“You in then, Doctor?” Rose leaned back against the console and tucked her tongue between her teeth.

With a flick of a lever she dimmed the TARDIS's lights to a dim glow. His nostrils flared just a bit as he felt color leaving his face when he stared just a bit too hard at her hand wrapped around that lever for the briefest of moments. That wasn't factoring in his hearts skipping a beat at the heat beneath her smokey tone as she licked her teeth.

“Yup,” he croaked obediently.

She bounced up. “Good! Close your eyes.”

“What am I counting to then?” He played along, bobbing his head back and forth.

Rose pressed her finger to her lips and twirled around a few times before answering. “200?”

“Odd number.”

She pouted her lips in contemplation as she began to take a few steps back. “That's all I'll need, I think.”

“So you're going that way then? Towards the pool?”

She bounced her eyebrows at him. “Sure, if you want to chance it. Now close your eyes, silly! We can't start until you do.”

“Right.”

No sooner than he obliged with a sigh did he hear the pounding of feet on grating, feel the cool breeze of her passing by, and smell her flowery jasmine perfume wafting by his nose. He began to count. _Not_ towards the pool then, he thought to himself. Although by going the other way she could still eventually get there by taking a few sets of stairs and creeping through thin corridors behind some closets near the galley. Oh, he was royally screwed. There were so many, too many places to hide. He hoped she was right about not being tired. He might be a while.

200 couldn't come quickly enough. The Doctor could have been a child and quickened the pace of his counting. But he wanted to win honestly. They hadn't laid any ground rules, so he assumed that he won if he found her before she fell asleep. It was a reasonable assumption, he decided as he slithered off the jump seat and began his search down the corridor in the opposite direction he thought Rose had gone in. He wouldn't be so easily fooled.

Either Rose disagreed with this assessment, or doubted the Doctor's ability to find her, because after his first five minutes traveling in this direction, he nearly tripped over her white shoe on the floor. Or perhaps she was in such a hurry that the shoe came off. Either way, he decided to leave it there to mark this spot. Shoe in front of the green study, got it. Just in case, he searched the study, and was pleased to find that Rose wasn't so dim that she could be found within. He searched the rest of the rooms in this corridor before moving on.

She'd left her black jacket two corridors down. He left it there as he did with her shoe, marking the spot. Jacket next to the guest bedroom.Alright, fine. It was a little bit hot in this particular stretch of the TARDIS. It was full of bedrooms, and he checked every one. Jack was slumbering soundly in one, and the Doctor thought Rose might be just cheeky enough to hide under the bed. He was so glad to be proven wrong.

The Doctor found Rose's other shoe in front of the galley. And this time he couldn't help but be a little insulted by her lack of confidence in his ability to play the game of hide and seek. He wasn't even using his finer senses to search for her! He was playing fair! See if he ever played hide and seek with her again, if this was how she was going to act. Nevertheless, he moved on. He wasn't about to be defeated by her turning her nose up at him. She'd challenged his skills enough for one day.

The pattern continued when he found a sock in front of the library. So now she was meandering about the TARDIS partly barefoot? He'd cautioned her against that more than once. At least the floor of the library was made of smooth, well worn coral. This is what told him that he might find her in here. He hoped. Time was flying, and he _refused_ to lose. Not today. He found another sock at the entrance to the vast science section of the library. So now she was completely barefoot. Alright. It was comfortable enough, he argued. He strolled through the science section, soaking in all of the comfort that the dusty old books could provide him. They'd never challenge him, not in the bad way at least.

He continued his trek by venturing into fiction, and was maybe just a little bit pleased to find that Rose remembered how much he loved Shakespeare. Except that him spying her Union flag shirt on the floor in front of the Shakespeare section meant that she wasn't wearing it. Her journey had taken her past the bedrooms. So it was reasonable to suggest that Rose grabbed a change of clothes. He could work out _why_ later, right after he worked out why she was also now without her trousers as well. And it was certainly a coincidence that they happened to be right next to the Charles Dickens section, right in front of his bedroom door that she shouldn't have even been able to find. His open bedroom door that she shouldn't have even been able to open. And right in that open doorway, laying before his feet? A little white bra.

There was no more explaining this away, which was precisely why the Doctor didn't look up as he stepped into the room, right over the abandoned bra. It wasn't _that_ hot. In fact, the Doctor liked his bedroom cold. Don't look up.. don't look up.. don't look up.. knickers.

Knickers. Little pink knickers with white polka dots that didn't at all match the bra several paces behind him. Little pink knickers with white polka dots that were very much _not_ being presently worn by their cheeky little owner.

“Found me,” the knickerless minx squeaked.

Alright, maybe it was okay to take a quick glance. She'd dared venture into his bedroom, after all. It was only fair. And she wouldn't technically be right until he looked up. The Doctor was then faced with the impossible choice of how he felt about the fact that there was a duvet covering Rose. Though he did know one thing, if all he ever saw of her bare skin were the smooth, unadulterated planes of her shoulders, he'd never complain. Though he might want to just have a little taste of those cute little moles freckling them, if he dared admit it to himself.

“Yeah, in my bedroom,” the Doctor folded his arms. “How did you find my bedroom?”

He grounded himself to a little table by the wall when he spotted Rose shifting beneath the sheets, exposing for just a brief moment a thigh as she hiked up the duvet with her writhing legs. Though his fingers dug into the wood of the table for dear life, they couldn't keep his jaw from falling to his neck before he he slammed it shut.

“Happened upon it a few days ago,” Rose muttered before chewing on her lip and brushing her wavy hair behind her ear.

She'd since abandoned her barrette on his nightstand, letting her wild tresses fall into her face. In the little moment when the duvet slipped just a bit, treating his eyes to a scant glimpse of ripe, round flesh, he wondered which was louder: her heart hammering at its cage or his breath hitching at the sight.

“So is that when you devised this little plan of yours? Invade my bedroom, take my bed?” the Doctor asked, eyes glued to a little mole on her neck that had him curling his toes in his shoes just thinking about how much it needed a little nibble.

Rose's cheeks flushed and ripened with each word slipped past her strawberry lips. “When was it that we were dancing?”

The Doctor looked at his watch. “An hour and 47 minutes ago.”

“Yeah, it was about then.”

He stepped away from the table and approached the bed. It was _his_ bed after all. And she was in it. He wiggled out of his jacket and let it fall to the floor, right in front of the shoes that he stepped out of afterward. He followed in her pattern by losing the socks next, though his clothing trail ended up being much shorter than hers by the time he evened the odds just a little. He was left with his vest and trousers by the time he worked up the courage to wrap his arm around one of his bed posts.

“And not the snog in the hallway after?” he asked.

“Might have clinched it a bit.”

“I thought you didn't like it.”

Rose's writhing and shifting before him didn't go unnoticed. The Doctor had to remind himself to breathe as it wasn't just his eyes that noticed. He wouldn't dare still those legs, no. He just wanted to be the blanket feeling the soft, warm friction he found himself craving.

“You surprised me, is all,” Rose muttered as she clawed at the sheets, not to hold them up to her blessed skin, but to give her fingers something to do, he wagered. “I didn't know you wanted..”

He moved around to the side of the bed and crawled up. With seldom seen finesse he slid and swung himself right onto the bed. Her heartbeats racing into his eager ears was all the encouragement he needed, but she sweetened the pot with a little yip when he sat next to her on top of the sheets.

“I want,” the Doctor clarified before she could finish her sentence. He moved on top of her, resting on his elbows and knees to keep from touching her. He was instantly rewarded with a sweet gulp of a gasp. “This was a bold move on your part,” he added, changing topics.

“Yeah, might pay off for me though, don't you think?”

Their eyes engaged in another dance, darting around one another's flushed faces before settling on a shared, heavy-lidded gaze. That is, until Rose licked her lips. He tracked the path of her tongue sweeping across her lips like a lion would a gazelle across the plains. She made him feel dizzy, and they hadn't even done anything, yet. (And of all the stupid words in the English language, 'yet' might have been his favorite for the brief moment).

“Just us,” the Doctor echoed Rose's earlier words, savoring them as they rolled off his tongue and into her ears.

“That alright?” Rose squeaked, and he watched her swallow as she searched his eyes for approval. “If I know what I -”

“I _love_ it,” he whispered onto her lips.

Rose pulled him down to her by digging her nails into his back, and snaked them beneath his vest as she whimpered a laugh against his lips. He greedily claimed hers in a series of kisses that had her gasping against his chin before she opened up to him. The Doctor mumbled a swear right into her mouth, how _warm_ she was. It helped him decide that he wasn't nearly close enough, and grasped at the duvet while she gulped down steep breaths. He begged for permission, only with his eyes. He considered not giving the consideration at all given where she'd found herself. But he was glad that he did when he was denied, at least until she'd manged to claw his vest off with a little bit of help.

He'd been allowed to slip beneath his covers, but not to curl up next to her as he'd planned. Rose pushed him to the bed on his back and sat up. The Doctor pushed his eyes all the way open as his hand fell to his forehead. He fell under a lightheaded daze just long enough for Rose to whip off his belt. When he arose from it he heard the familiar low growl of the teeth on his zipper opening up to her swift and eager fingers. He'd never been so pleased to be powerless to stop her, and was perfectly okay with her giggling at his expense when he eagerly raised his hips to help get him out of his trousers. But he stopped her when she reached for his pants.

“Rose,” he groaned, and snatched her wrist.

He might have expected her to argue, and for once he'd revel in her refusal to listen to him. But this time she did happily oblige, and didn't resist him tugging at her wrists to bring her closer to him. She straddled him, and he needed a moment just to truly accept that her bare thighs were hugging his hips in a way he'd only thus far dreamt of.

“I need a minute,” the Doctor confessed into her neck, every bit as sweet and mild as he'd imagined. He lavished it with kisses before giving it a proper taste. Her hiss into his shoulder made him glad for the extra room between his legs.

“Take it, 'm not going anywhere,” Rose whispered and returned his kisses onto his neck.

“No more hiding?”

“Unless you count under these covers.”

He nipped her collarbone and was treated to a squeak. “Mm mm, I want to see you after all the trouble you put me through. And the teasing.”

Rose sat up, despite him trying to pull her back down. The duvet slid down her back and rested on her hips. All it took for that last bit of modesty to fall away was one rock of her hips, one delicious bit of friction between her heat and his desire.

“Did I hurt you, with the teasing?” Rose asked, sincere in her warm tone and glistening eyes.

He couldn't answer before he worked out whether he was allowed to touch. She revealed to him too much at once. His eyes could only helplessly dart about her elegant frame. Of course, that was an insult to the delight that she'd offered him. Rose wasn't a frame, not any frame. She was the painting, priceless as far as his discerning eyes were concerned. Not one to ever put up in a gallery. He wanted her and every curve close to him, from the swells of her her hips to the valleys beneath her peaks. And if he had anything to do with it, nobody but him would set eyes on her creamy skin.. certainly not the little pink cherries dotting them, or the chocolate curls seated just above the throbbing rocket between his legs.

“Doctor?”

“Maybe a little,” he croaked as he reached for her hip. “I think this teasing might be a bit worse just now. Maybe.”

Rose canted her head and smiled. “You said you needed a minute.”

“I'm good now. What I need right now is _you_ ,” he admitted.

Her eyes widened before she purred and rocked her hips again. She had a power over him and she knew it. She knew it weeks ago, months even. She never used it like she was now. Oh, but their needs had to be the same. The Doctor made a vice grip on her hips and pulled them down, grinding into her for every bit of friction he could get. His pants were damp, and he was never more eager to get them off. How long had she been lying in his bed blushing, waiting for him to find her, claim her?

“Just now?” Rose teased.

“Always.”

Rose leaned forward and dropped a kiss to his lips before reaching under one of his pillows. He didn't care to find out what she was doing. She was close again, and he could touch, taste. He could so easily be distracted, while she could so easily be his siren, his every weakness. Her moan in reply to his tasting one of the sweet cherries dimpling her creamy mounds would make it all worth it. She caught herself as she slipped a little after fumbling with the pillow. Beneath it she'd stashed a little foil packet, knicked right from his nightstand drawer.

“You know how you're always telling me not to rush into things?” Rose panted.

“I didn't take _that_ long to find you, did I?” he replied after releasing her breast with a perfectly lewd squeak.

“Might have had time to get ready while I waited..”

He grinned against her nipple, grazing it with his teeth. “In my bed?”

The Doctor was all too eager to lap up her body's inability to decide which sound to make in her reply. Her gasping gurgle was a combination that coated his ears quite nicely.

“I _really_ enjoyed our dance,” she confessed.

“You're ready for another one then?”

“I really am.”

Rose moved off his hips and tugged at his boxers, now damp in the best way he could've imagined. She grinned as she hit a snag yanking them down his legs.

“Never thought you'd make it this easy for me,” he mused between husky breaths.

“You did say, I've teased you enough, yeah?”

“Definitely,” he blurted between gasps as she made little effort of rolling on the condom.

She straddled him again, just before he moved to sit up and cross his legs. His next breath came like a cool summer breeze as she wrapped his neck in her warm arms. Rose was the summer to his winter, warm, bright and intense. He searched her eyes for any questions but found none before he brought her in close. Her warm gaze melted him completely. The only parts of her that trembled were her breaths and her sex saddling his. This didn't stay true for long, as he raised her hips and lowered them in two swift moves.

If the Doctor thought he'd found Rose before he'd have been wrong, so wrong. It didn't matter who won at this point. They'd found one another. His lips found hers, claimed them again right alongside a buck of his hips. Her heels found his bum a moment later as she snaked her arms around his neck that much tighter. She found his ear, purring his name there on a hot sigh. Within a few minutes they found a rhythm they both liked, one that Rose promised the Doctor didn't require any extra work on his part. He still tried anyway, and reached between them to rub her throbbing bundle of nerves with his thumb. A few minutes later, she was biting down on his shoulder, reaching her peak just a moment before his. When he kissed her, all he could manage to do after they fell to the bed, he saw her eyes glossy with tears. He'd never forget the smile that came with it, as he later worked out it was one she saved just for him.

Several weeks later Rose cried in front of him again, but this time the tears weren't of the happy sort. She broke his hearts with her promise that it wasn't all just a trick to trap him, begged him not to throw her away. She swore to him she had no clue how it happened. It was a notion that he shared at first. That shouldn't have been the first time he told her he loved her, for lack of anything better to say as he stared at her positive pregnancy test. She never questioned him, never accused him of being at fault. His begging her to at least keep the baby, to save the tender little life they created only produced more tears. She'd learned of her pregnancy only a day before her 20th birthday. She wasn't ready, and neither was he. He assured her that age had little to do with it on both sides. He didn't even have a moment alone to curse himself for doing this to Rose. It could have been a sin, what they did, child or not. It didn't change how he felt about her, didn't change that she was growing a life, a tiny little miracle. It shouldn't have been possible, he told her. Of course for a few minutes that made the news worse.

“It's just like you said that night though, when you helped Jamie and Nancy,” Rose bleated and hiccuped between tears. “Everybody lives. Life finds a way.”

“Life found a way,” he echoed, and placed a palm to her womb. There was no swell yet, but he was there, waiting for his turn to find them.

The Doctor made a promise to Rose and her child that day. It was a simple one, meant to reassure her, and not produce more tears as it ended up doing (though at least this time they were happy ones again). He'd found her, and her child. They were his, the pair of them. He swore to them both that now that he had them, he had no intentions of ever letting them go.

Several months later, Jack proved himself to be a capable midwife, with the assistance of the TARDIS and the Doctor's instructing. The Doctor couldn't have been more grateful, because his rightful place was right behind Rose, supporting her as she made painstaking efforts to bring their son into the world. He never made a joke about humans at Rose's expense after that day. No Gallifreyan would have the stones to push themselves nearly to the breaking point to bring forth life. As far as the Doctor knew, only his Rose did, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

 

\-------

 

Rose returned from shopping with Jack and went straight to Oliver's nursery, expecting her poor partner to be attempting to pull his hair out chasing after their exuberant little boy. She'd asked a lot of him, the poor dear, she mused. Loving his son came naturally, beautifully even. Parenting him was a skill that the centuries old Time Lord was still developing. Though they did find the boys in the nursery, Rose couldn't have been more shocked to find them both slumped over on the floor in front of Oliver's rocking chair with the Doctor's leather jacket draped loosely over them. It hung off the Doctor's hands now, cradling Oliver's bum.

The Doctor might have contested Oliver being his spitting image, but when they slept they looked exactly the same. Clad only in his nappy and resting on his father's bare chest, Rose felt her point needed no further illustration. Jack snapped a few pictures while Rose cooed at them both. Their breathing was perfectly in sync, one little chest falling while the other rose to support it. The last thing the Doctor had done before falling asleep must have been dropping a little kiss to Oliver's head, because his lips were pressed to his crown. Oliver's thumb had fallen out of his mouth, but his little pink lips and tongue didn't know any different, filling the room with his mouth's suckling squeaks.

“Leave it to them to ruin the surprise,” Jack chuckled softly as he patted Rose's shoulder.

Rose kissed both her boys on the cheeks. “Weird. The Doctor smells like chocolate.”

Jack cast an eye to their shopping bag and snickered. “Remember all those brownies you were eating with Ollie? D'you think he knows already?”

“The Doctor? Not a chance. Ollie might, my clever little boy. Nothing gets past him.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “He won't trust any of your little schemes any more, you know. Just saying.”

“I didn't plan it!” Rose defended, raising her voice. Her son's twitching and kicking legs reminded her to lower her voice. “It just happened. D'you think he'll be cross? I know it's early..”

Jack snorted. “Are you serious? He'll be smitten. Enjoy it now while you can, Rose Tyler. You won't be the only woman in his life for much longer.”

Rose squeezed Jack in a hug, and they both laughed as he brought her back to the floor from a twirl. “You know, he's never gonna trust me from now on if I ask him to play hide and seek again.”

 

 


End file.
